One on One
by candy-belle
Summary: Phil loves to watch Clint train. Little slash ficcett featuring Clint Barton and Phil Coulson with bonus Natasha with fluff, training room violence, deep friendship and slash.


**Title:** One-on-One  
**Rating:** 12  
**Summary:** Phil gets to watch something special  
**Featuring:** Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Phil Coulson,  
**Genre/warnings:** fluff, training room violence, deep friendship and hinted at slash  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Notes:** Another little Clint/Natasha friendship fic. with a side order of Phlint slash. Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!)

Watching them fight was like watching the deadliest ballet known to man. There was an elegance to the shared violence swirling around the small training room. To the untrained eye it looked horrific, blows were landing left right and centre. But Phil knew better. No one knew the two combatants as well as he did. And to his well trained eye, it was obvious the punches were being pulled. Blows were merely glancing off their intended target rather than striking with the pin point accuracy both fighters were known for.

As Clint landed hard on his back, lying still for less than a split second before springing up to his feet to knock Natasha back against the wall with a roundhouse, Phil called flatly, "Please remember we have a gala dinner engagement tonight. I'd rather not have to explain away visible bruises." _Again_ he added in his own head, barely masking his wince as he watched Natasha catch Clint across the face with a powerful strike.

"Oh you're no fun," panted Clint ducking under Natasha's kick and jabbing her in the ribs causing her to squeak. He grinned at her, winking when she narrowed her eyes. Jumping back just out of the way of her follow through strike, he quickly held a hand up and asked breathlessly, "Break?"

"You tired?" teased Natasha, although she did drop her stance, one hand resting on her hip as she drew some much needed oxygen into her burning lunges.

"No more than you, hotsauce," replied Clint grinning broadly at her. He held his hand out and waited.

For a moment Natasha stared at it then finally, allowing a smile to brake through, she took his hand and pulled him close. Sharing a brief business-like hug they broke apart. Natasha grabbed her towel and headed towards the en suite shower, while Clint stalked over to the bench that Phil was currently working on.

Sinking down beside his handler he glanced at the older man before shoulder bumping him and asking, "So, how'd we do?"

"We?" asked Phil not even bothering to look away from his laptop, "I would say Natasha scored 9 you scored 8.75"

"You what?" yelped Clint, "8.75? Seriously you scored me a…"

"She knocked you flat on your tail," replied Phil totally unfazed by the fact Clint was now poking him in the side, the master archer glaring at him like a petulant child, "Twice."

"Yeah and I knocked her straight back," argued Clint "Plus I made her squeak, which has to be worth at least another half point and ..."

"I was going to offer to give you some one-on-one training," continued Phil as if Clint wasn't protesting loudly beside him, "But you do make a good point. That was a very cute squeal you drew out of her, maybe I was a little…"

"Whoa," said Clint pressing a finger to Phil's lips, "One-on-one?" he asked, the pout turning into a very knowing smirk, "As in you on me one-on-one training?"

"I believe that is what the phrase one-on-one training means, Barton," replied Phil although the smile tugging at his lips belied the unflappable air he was straining to keep.

"Hell I want that," agreed Clint bouncing to his feet. Stretching his body out he let Phil get a full eyeful before asking with feigned innocence, "So you going to put me through my paces, Sir?"

Setting the laptop on the bench, Phil slowly got to his feet. He removed his jacket, folded it up and gently undid his tie before finally looking at Clint. Holding the master archer's gaze, he smiled faintly and ordered firmly, "Assume the position Agent."

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" barked Clint the grin splitting his face as he let Phil grab hold of his beck and pull him closer.

The resulting sounds that filled the training area were enough to have Natasha grinning as she washed her hair and relaxed in the shower, secretly loving it when Phil joined them for their private training sessions.

FIN x


End file.
